


melodies of life

by zeroism



Series: the violet voice [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 02:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20827865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeroism/pseuds/zeroism
Summary: It was then, with his thoughts calming down, his own voice quieter in his head, that he noticed it. A gentle sound, carried through the wind. Plucks at a string, notes coming in a sequence.E'zarh overhears something he wasn't meant to. A bard bonds with another.





	melodies of life

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my WIPs. Something like a month old or so. Posting it is probably a mistake bc I don't think it's even finished or edited but yolo
> 
> Set mid-CT storyline. Zarh is but one of many Warriors of Light.

A quiet moment. That was all he wanted, for once.

E'zarh had sneaked out, hiding away, sat behind a crystalline peak. Just for one moment— then, he'd get back to work. There were errands to run, things to bring back to camp, a tool Cid needed him to find.

He didn't often get overwhelmed. He was the one who'd offered himself up, to complete these little tasks to help with the expedition. He usually carried himself better than this.

People had started calling him a "Warrior of Light". He didn't want to let it get to him, but— some days, it weighed heavily on his shoulders. No matter how many times he explained that they surely had him confused for someone else, it changed nothing.

All he wanted was to help others. Becoming a hero was never in his plans. The title didn't fit him, not at all. At heart, he was an errand boy, Scion or not— such an honor was much better suited to those with greater aspirations than him. With greater feats than him. His most impressive achievements were "being in the right place at the right time".

But it didn't matter how he felt, if he believed the name fit him or not, that much was obvious. Unless he stopped in his tracks and went back home, he would be seen as a Warrior of Light, whether he liked it or not.

Back home. Back to Thanalan, to his old village? That was almost a laughable thought. He had no true family, no true friends in the savannah, no more than he did in the Twelveswood. It wasn't home, the way they'd look at him whenever he did things they disapproved of, when they'd scold him for staying up late or oversleeping, when they'd poke fun at his teeth— 

E'zarh groaned, pulling his hat further down his head in frustration.

Meeting G'raha Tia had made him oddly nostalgic.

It wasn't often he'd meet other Seekers on the road, much less males. G'raha had hardly been raised as a Seeker, as far as he knew, not like he was. He carried the smell of books and Sharlayan with him, not the smell of a sun-soaked warrior. But even despite that, E'zarh felt some sort of kinship with the odd-eyed man.

They might have started off on the wrong foot, but... He considered G'raha a friend. A sometimes bratty, cheeky friend, but one nonetheless.

Quietly, he hoped G'raha felt the same way.

It was a bit difficult to tell, with him. Their physical closeness meant nothing to him, and intellectually, he was nowhere even near G'raha's level. The scholar had once attempted to explain the contents of a Tomestone and managed to make E'zarh confused enough to fall on his face.

He couldn't help with the actual research, evidently, and it would still be a while until they'd breached the tower itself. So, he'd made himself available. Offered his services. Asked if anything else needed done, smaller things. G'raha rarely had many odd jobs for him, but the others did. Perhaps, that would be enough to show that he really meant it. That he cared for G'raha. That he wanted to _ help _.

...And there was still so much _ helping _ to do. And once they were done with the tower, he'd move on and get to helping more people with more problems. E'zarh sighed. Such was his lot in life, and one he'd given himself.

None of it was urgent, but it wouldn't do to delay these tasks too long. There were objects to retrieve, messages to relay. He had to remind himself that this was the path he chose, that the payoff is always worth it.

Their smiles when he did a good job, their gratitude. _ That _ was always worth it.

He had to believe that.

It was then, with his thoughts calming down, his own voice quieter in his head, that he noticed it. A gentle sound, carried through the wind. Plucks at a string, notes coming in a sequence.

_ Music _? And he thought it had been playing for a while, too— he was just too deep in his thoughts to notice before.

His musings all but forgotten, E'zarh stood, ears flicking, turning to the direction of the song. He didn't recognize the melody, and the sound was too clean to be from an Orchestrion.

Someone was playing a song he didn't know— here, in the middle of nowhere. Inexplicably, his chest was pounding, the Soul Crystal in his pocket feeling like it weighed as much as his heart.

Seeing nothing at first, he quietly followed the sound, gentle notes from a harp taking him away from his hideout. If he strained, he could almost hear a voice, too— 

Then, he spotted red, and froze.

With his back to E'zarh, leaning against a misshapen pillar of crystal, stood G'raha Tia, a harp in his hands and a hum in his voice.

The song he was playing... E'zarh had never heard anything like it before. There was a depth to it, a melancholy, a strength made _ stronger _ by G'raha humming along to the sounds of the harp. If only he didn't have his back turned; surely, he must have looked beautiful in that moment.

Nothing about that thought struck him as odd.

E'zarh could do nothing. Couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe, taking in the sight, taking in the sound. As if he was mesmerized, hypnotized. He wanted to burn it in his memory; both the view and the song.

How long did he stand there, watching but not seeing— only feeling? He couldn't tell. The music went on, the melody shifting a few times, songs running into songs into songs. He almost felt so relaxed he could fall asleep right there. Subconsciously, E'zarh smiled and let out a deep sigh.

And then the music stopped.

He expected himself to panic, but when G'raha turned around, all E'zarh could do was smile further.

"Wh— Since when have you been...!?" G'raha stuttered, putting his harp away in a frenzy.

E'zarh shook his head. "Not very long."

"You..." For once, G'raha was the one who was flustered, ears pressed against his head, and that brought E'zarh some measure of joy. "You were _ listening _!"

"Aye," he said, seeing no reason to disagree. That only seemed to rattle G'raha further. "...'Twas a lovely song. Where is it from?"

A different look crossed his features, then, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. "...It's Allagan, I believe."

"Ah, that would explain it," E'zarh nodded. Everything went back to Allag, when G'raha was involved. "I'd never heard you play before."

"Well, certainly!" G'raha all but pouted, crossing his arms with a little _ huff _. "You were not supposed to!"

E'zarh should feel bad for sneaking up on him, he really should, but he could do naught but chuckle. "Call it payback for that prank you pulled on me, if you must."

Mismatched eyes squint at him, a thoughtful hum filling the silence as G'raha ponders the "offer". Then, he leans forward, hands on his hips; "And what if I choose not to?"

Ah, there it was, the _ challenging _. This time it was a cover for his embarrassment, E'zarh could tell, but that just made it all the more endearing.

Previous worries entirely forgotten, he smirks at G'raha, but there is no edge to it. Catching him in such a vulnerable moment left E'zarh feeling nothing but fond. "You still must pay me back for that _ somehow _."

G'raha scoffed, but it had no bite, either, followed by his own playful smirk. He was trying to deflect, but it was a play-fight, nothing more. "I think I've paid you back _ quite _ enough. You know, Cid still makes fun of how strangely you were walking—'

"You've made your point," E'zarh interjected a bit too quickly, a bit too loud, giving his own embarrassment away. "How— how about this?"

G'raha's smile fell slightly as he watched E'zarh fumble with his equipment and pull out a harp of his own. "...You wish to...?"

"Nothing as cliche as asking you to teach me," E'zarh shakes his head, fiddling with the instrument, making sure it was in tune. "Yet, I listened as you played a melody meant for your ears only. 'Tis only fair you hear one of mine."

"That... is _ not _ necessary," G'raha says, and from his alarmed tone, E'zarh imagines he must be reeling from the shift in the conversation. "You— mustn't feel indebted for something like that."

"Well," E'zarh shrugged, sitting himself right there on the ground. "I would like you to listen anyway. Even if not as repayment."

The admission surprised even E'zarh himself. A bard he may be, but he either performed in battle, or to large groups of strangers. He'd never played for friends like this— not Nada and Same, nor the Scions. Yet, he had no doubt at that moment that he wanted for G'raha to listen.

If he were willing to, of course.

It took a couple of seconds, enough for E'zarh to worry he might have overstepped, but G'raha finally sat himself down, shrugging with an exasperated smile. "Very well then— let's hear what you've got."

E'zarh gave him a toothy grin, showing his fangs, checking his strings one last time.

And then he played.

It wasn't perfect or magical— E'zarh wasn't as good at this as G'raha was, fumbling even with the relatively simple melody, and the song was a mere lullaby he remembered from _ somewhere _; possibly his childhood, but he couldn't tell who had sung it or where. And still, he put his entire heart into performing it, humming in place of lyrics he had no memory of.

G'raha's expression betrayed nothing, even as his fingers slowed down after a couple of minutes, plucking the last note of a song forgotten.

Eventually, the silence becomes unbearable, a chill following the rapidly setting sun. E'zarh averting his eyes and muttering, "So, what did you think?"

G'raha's reaction is somewhat vexing to him, eyebrows furrowing, his expression almost grave. "Where is that song from?"

"Hm? I'm... not certain," he admitted. "I've heard it a long time ago, but I couldn't tell you where or when."

G'raha nodded, face becoming lighter, even the beginnings of a smile pulling at his lips. "I didn't expect something like that from you. Such a sad-sounding melody."

"Truly?" E'zarh tilts his head, feeling his ears twitch. "I've always thought of it as a hopeful song."

"Hope...? Ah, I can see that," he nods, smiling fully now. "It's a rather lovely song."

Ah, was he blushing? His face felt _ warm _. "I can't take credit. As I said, I simply heard it somewhere..."

"Well, then I couldn't take credit for my own performance either, could I?" G'raha responded, pouting a little. "Take the compliment, for once."

"Ah... Very well then," he shrugged, seeing no way to argue against that, bowing his head in graceful acceptance. "Thank you for listening."

G'raha grinned, tail swishing happily behind him. "Couldn't very well refuse such a heartfelt request, could I?" He shifted, ready to stand up "We should go back to camp, though. Rammbroes must be grumbling about by now."

Ah— yes, that's right. He'd completely forgotten, he had things he was supposed to be doing. Errands. He put his harp back in place. "Ah... Yes, I should get back to work. I'm sure you must have quite a bit of research to get into as well—"

As he began to stand up, so did G'raha, but in the same movement, G'raha tipped himself just a little bit forward—

and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Before E'zarh had any time to react, frozen mid-movement, G'raha was already up, scuttling away with his hands behind his head and a mischievous grin on his face.

"What are you standing around for? Those errands aren't going to run themselves!" He laughed, walking away with not a care in the world.

This— was almost childish compared to other types of _ skinship _ they'd shared before, specially the way G'raha was smirking like the cat that got the cream. Like a _ kid _.

So why did E'zarh feel so _ much _about it, following G'raha back to camp with his cheeks flushed and his heart thundering in his chest?


End file.
